Learning to Live
by warbitch
Summary: Harry is attacked by his Uncle, and hospitalised with sever injuries that refuse to heal. While in a coma, he hears a voice telling him that he is loved and need, giving him the reason to learn to live after the death of Sirius Completed


**Chapter 1: Gross Intrusion**

It was July, the day of his birth in fact, and Harry sat in his cramped bedroom, on his small bed, looking out into the freedom of the night. He sat there, contemplating his existence. _'That's what I do. I don't live, I exist. I exist to die, to die fighting Voldemort. But don't worry everybody. Your precious saviour will do his job and take the scaly bastard down to hell with him.' _Harry stared out the window at the wide open night sky and wept for the death of his godfather, his eyes turned to the heavens and the constant reminder of his failure, the constellation named Sirius.

Vernon was not a happy man. He had been so close to closing a deal with that little street whore, but Petunia had called his cell phone right in the middle of it. _'Damn that woman! Does she not have_ _a bloody idea_ _how damn bad she is? Like an old fish, slimy, cold and disgusting is what she is.'_

He sat in his living room, in his favourite chair, drinking a rather large glass of whiskey. His stared at his boarded up fireplace, cursing Petunia in his head. His _darling wife_ was out at a dinner party, and not scheduled to be home for hours, so he couldn't even have _her_. Dudley was out with friends creating chaos and mayhem, and he was stuck at home making sure that brat of his sister-by-law didn't do anything naughty.

At the thought of Harry, a disgusting, disturbing smile spread across his fat face. _'He wouldn't dare say a thing. He hasn't spoken a word since he got off that blasted train. Perfect. I guess I'll get to have fun too tonight.' _With perverted thoughts running through his drink sodden mind, Vernon Dursley put his empty glass down and began walking up stairs to his ward's bedroom, loosening his belt as he went.

When Vernon came through the door, Harry glanced at him before looking back out the window. _'I expect he wants me to make supper for him or some such nonsense.' _If he had known what Vernon really wanted, he would have probably cursed him to within an inch of his life. But he never saw it coming.

"Boy. Get up and come here." Vernon looked at the boy hungrily. He was starved for a good piece of ass, and though bony and skinny, he would settle for what his nephew could offer. His eyes licked up and down the slim boy's body, taking in the plain grey boxers and too big t-shirt. He heard Harry sigh and then the ruffling of the bed sheets as he stood.

Before Harry could do a thing, he found himself thrown back onto his bed, and then the great weight of his uncle on top of him, pinning him down. _'What the hell? What did I do this time? I haven't even left this room. How could I screw anything up from here?' _For all his frantic thinking, Harry could not find a single reason for the behaviour of his uncle, unknowing that he was just unlucky enough to be the handiest person available.

Vernon's sour breath hissed against his cheek as his thick fingers removed the belt from his waist, using it to tie Harry's hands above his head, attached to the headboard. He unzipped his pants and let them fall to his ankles. His greedy fingers sank beneath the waistband of Harry's boxers to squeeze and manhandle the virgin flesh to be found. His nephew's body was wriggling and fighting madly to get away, but not a sound escaped his lips.

The drab grey cloth of his underwear fell to the floor and his shirt was pushed up to his neck, allowing Vernon to see all that lightly tanned, unmarked flesh. His gross and intruding fingers pried apart Harry's thighs and bum, before roughly sticking his finger in the previously untouched opening in the young boy's body.

Though Harry could not break his self-imposed silence, in his mind he was screaming, screaming to be saved, for someone to find him, help him, make all the bad things go away. As pain burst through him from his uncle's rough treatment, as his blood eased the way for his uncle's sick pleasure, Harry's mind retreated to a tiny corner of his being. In that small part of him, there was no pain, there was no pleasure, there was no death, there was no life. There was only a soft grey static, numbing and soothing.

His mind was still in that grey place as his body bucked and fought his uncle, earning his smacks and blows to the head, the ribs, anywhere Vernon could reach. After the fat man had shot his load inside him, Vernon retrieved his belt and let Harry lie where he was on the bed. He had so wanted to make the boy scream, but not even a pained moan had escaped him.

Without thought, Vernon's hand flew backwards and then forwards, slamming his belt buckle onto Harry's back, drawing blood. His arm flew until he was too tired to do it again. And all Harry had done was try to get away. Not a sound, not a word had passed his lips. Vernon left.

Harry clawed himself back onto the bed, unable to stand from the pain. His back from shoulders to ass was bleeding and bruised, his bruised and blackened ribs stabbed pain into his chest, his arms where cut up and purple from trying to block the blows, his legs were scratched all to hell, but miraculously it seemed, his face was untouched. No mark for the casual observer to see. With a thick trail of blood smeared on the floor, his underwear torn up and lying somewhere, his shirt glued to him with blood, The-Boy-Who-Lived-But-Wanted-To-Die fell asleep with a soft smile on his face.

'_I wonder if anyone will care if I die, except that they have no one to face Voldemort? I wonder if anyone will notice if I'm gone?_'

**Chapter 2: Shattered Hopes**

Harry awoke to the dulcet sounds of his aunt screaming for him to come downstairs. He had lived through the night, much to his disappointment. He groaned in his mind and tried to get up, but found that he could not move. He was able to feel all his limbs, which were in searing pain, so it wasn't that he was paralysed, just immobile.

He could hear Petunia storming up the stairs, demanding that he get his lazy ass up out of bed and start the laundry. He was in too much pain to so much as move a finger. His face was turned to the door, so he was able to see the woman that was his mother's sister as she came into his room and understood why he wasn't doing as he was told.

Petunia was in complete and utter shock. When she had come home last night, she had seen the smug look of contentment on her husbands face, but had figured that he had visited a whore on the street. Seeing her nephew sprawled out on his bed, naked and covered from neck to knees in blood and other liquids, she came to full realisation of what had happened.

Rage burned a deadly swath through her. She may not have liked having her sister's brat in her house, but he was in _her _custody, and she knew her duty to him. He was supposed to be safe here from those maniacs terrorising through England. And Vernon had gone and ruined everything, just like he usually does. With a promise of retribution flaming in her eyes, Petunia calmly walked to Harry and sat at his side, uncaring of the blood that soaked into her skirt. "Harry, I know you're in pain, so just listen to me. I may not like being forced to care for you, but I try to provide you with the necessities. Nothing like this was ever meant to happen. Vernon will pay for doing this to you, don't worry. Either I, the police, or that infernal Professor of yours will make him regret ever touching you. Right now, I need to take you to..." Petunia's voice trailed off as Professor Snape whipped off his Invisibility Cloak.

"I'm sorry, Petunia, but I had to know that you weren't involved in this. I'll take care of Potter. Dumbledore will be around in a moment to take care of that lout you call a husband." Snape's usually sneering face held a soft, almost tender look.

In his school years, when others had tormented him, Lily Evans had been a dear, sweet girl to him. The fourth year they had been at school, she had invited him to stay with her for Christmas break. He had gone and been introduced to her family. At the time, he had been put off about meeting a bunch of Muggles, but her parents had been nice to him. To his amazement though, her sister had seemed as cynical and pessimistic as he. He immediately conceived a tendre for the muggle girl and had not gotten over it yet. It was part of the reason he hated Potter so much, both the father and the son. They got to spend so much time with the woman he admired so much.

Petunia had been aware of the feelings of the dark man, but she had been unable to allow herself to feel anything for him. He was one of _them_. She could never, would never, have _feelings_ for someone like him... no matter how much she wanted to.

"Somehow Dumbledore was able to hear Harry. He said that Harry had screamed to be saved, but no one heard him. He said that Harry's mind had screamed. By the time he heard the echo of it, it was too late. I'm sorry, both to you and your nephew. Now, come on Potter, we have to get you to St. Mungo's. _Scourgify_! I'm sure you will appreciate not being covered in such mess. Now hold still." Harry's Professor did a spell that put the boy on a levitating stretcher, lying on his stomach as his back had the most damage. Snape pulled a portkey from his pocket and let it rest by Harry's hip, before helping him wrap his hand around the handle of the chipped teapot. The older man rested his hand on the side and it took effect, whisking them away to the wizards' hospital.

Harry was slipping in and out of consciousness. He had not only sustained a huge amount of trauma, but he had lost a lot of blood. He was literally at the brink of death; he could see his mother and father, he could see Sirius, he could see the family he had never known. And the medi-wizards didn't know if they could bring him back. Secretly, Serverus Snape wondered if they should. The boy may have been a pain in the ass, but he was the Golden boy. He was supposed to be the saviour of wizardkind. That kind of pressure is terrible. Knowing that you are nothing more than a pawn, a weapon, must be demoralising beyond belief.

But he kept silent and let the healers work on Harry. The most that they were able to do was stabilise him and heal the more minor of the wounds. The larger bruising and cuts refused the touch of magic. Harry's own magic funnelled it away from the wounds, as if he didn't want them to heal. The phenomenon troubled and baffled the healers.

Harry's body was kept in a private room, guarded by witches and wards. St. Mungo's wasn't the most secure place. The people there were healers, not fighters. But they could at least keep away the curious people and the reporters. As soon as Serverus with Harry had entered the hospital, the wizarding world had been alerted.

So now Harry's body lay in a cold, hard hospital bed, while his mind and soul took flight. Dumbledore and McGonagall sat at his bedside, the older man holding tightly to the younger's hand. The renowned and powerful man now looked just plain tired and old. His face was sagging, the wrinkles now more apparent, and most alarming, his eyes had lost there twinkle and glitter. It was the face of a despairing, disillusioned schemer. He had planned for so long, planned so well, and now was to be thwarted by a heavy handed muggle.

"What are we going to do Albus? They said they didn't know how to bring him back. We _need _him. We all need him. What about the prophecy? Only Harry can kill He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Can't you do something Albus? Do something! Say something!" Minerva McGonagall was getting hysterical, tears sliding down her face, hands and fingers twisting and contorting in fear and grief.

"There is nothing I can say or do, Minerva. Except hope. Our only chance left is to hope." He held out a hand to his friend, and she came to him, crying into his shoulder. He held her, rubbing her back as his own tears made their way down his craggy, weathered face. Two friends comforting each other as their hopes lay as shattered as the boy in the bed.

**Chapter 3: Pureblooded Grief**

"Draconius son, you will never believe what has happened." Narcissia Malfoy had a sadistic, pleased grin on her aristocratic face. She sat in the conservatory of the Malfoy Manor with her son, eating breakfast and reading the _Daily Prophet. _" I quote: '_Is the Boy-Who-Lived Dying? Early this morning, Harry Potter, the boy renowned for being the only person to escape an attack by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and the only recorded person to survive being attacked with the Killing Curse, was rushed to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. One witness at the scene said: "He was naked and covered in blood! It looked like he had been in a terrible battle." Is this the result of a fight with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? Is the Dark Wizard of the century finally dead? Upon questioning, medi-witches refused to comment on the extent of his injuries. The boy is under constant watch, not only by hospital staff, but also by the great Albus Dumbledore. (See page 12 for more news on The-Boy-Who-Lived)' _What a load of rubbish. The Dark Lord isn't dead you nitwits!But this business about Potter being all torn up and bloody... I'm fairly sure that no attackswere planned on him. Hmm..."

Draco's mother stood, still holding her newspaper under her nose, and walked into the house, disappearing into the constant dark and gloom.Draco watched her fade into the darkness, and thought about what she had said.

When he and Harry had first gone to school, in their very first year, he had offered the small, dark-haired boy his hand in friendship, only to be rejected. His father had told him to make the offer, thinking that they might come to control the boy through it. But that was not the real reason why he had done it.

Draconius Drusus Black Malfoy was no stranger to attention. With his illustrious family and connections, he was a boy used to being in the limelight. He knew how lonely it can be, how utterly blind everyone around you can seem. He had offered his hand to young Harry because he wanted to protect him from the searing lights of fame. He had wanted the boy to have a true friend. Even at the tender age of eleven, Draco had been hardened by his father and his father's associates. He knew what strife lay in store for the boy. In effect, he had wanted to be able to be there for him, to comfort him.

When Harry had turned him down, Draco had been a tad bit heartbroken. His motives were not completely selfless. He had wanted to have a true friend too. He had instinctively known that the boy would not be blinded by his family name or the amount of gold in his family's Gringott's vault. He had wanted to comfort the boy and be comforted by him.

And now that urge to comfort, to protect him from the harshness in life had turned to something more. Draco now had _only_ want, _only_ urges, urges he couldn't control. He had watched the boy he wanted for a friend turn into a man. Harry had aged before his eyes with the pain and blood of war in him, with the deaths of family and friendson his soulDraco so wanted to take away the hurt, the pain, the lonesomeness. He was intimately familiar with being alone, with the sweet agony of blood and pain. After all, he was a Malfoy.

And so he sat in the sunlight streaming into the conservatory, his breakfast sitting cold on his plate, while he grieved for the man he had come to love.

It was late August, with only a week left until the beginning of school, his last year. His mother thought he was in town to get the last of his supplies, which was true, but only partially. He came to see Harry.

As Draco entered St. Mungo's, he wondered what had happened to hurt Harry so badly. It hadn't leaked to the news, but Draco had found out about his condition. He had picked up the information network his father had built. He knew that Harry was in a coma, and his wounds refused to heal. And so he wondered and worried.

He swept along the halls of the hospital as if he owned them, and in a sense he did, after all the contributions of his family. He knew exactly where he was going. He looked quite like his father as he swiftly walked past everyone, his robes billowing out and his long hair swept back. His eyes counted rooms and hallways, waiting to get to the side passage leading to the intensive care wing.

When he saw it, irritation flashed through him. There was a wizard posted at the door. Draco decided to act as if he didn't exist, and just walked past the guard and through the doors. It worked, the wizard merely nodded at him. He walked past the nurse's station and directly to Harry's room. No one saw him. _'So much for security.'_

When he saw the beaten and bruised form lying on the bed, Draco's knees became weak, simply refusing to hold him up any longer. A soft moan escaped him to float in the stale hospital air. His nose and eyes burned, urging him to cry, but he refused to do such a thing in public, too much his father's son. But small whimpers left his lips and prayers raced through his mind, pleas to an unknown deity.

With trembling fingers, he pushed the dark hair off his forehead, exposing the jagged, ugly scar.He placed a soft kiss on that scar and smoothed his fingers over the pallid skin of Harry's cheeks. With another soft prayer, he left.

Too bad he didn't see the jade green eyes open.

**Chapter 4: Punishment**

_(CHAPTER WARNING: extreme violence)_

'_Dumbledore be damned. I'm going to make that fat man pay for what he did to Harry. I may not like the brat, but no one deserves that.' _Severus Snape swept through the cold halls of Hogwarts, moving swiftly to his private chambers. He had spent weeks trying to convince the batty old man to exact some punishment on the man who was supposed to protect Harry, all to no end. So here he was, on his way to do it himself.

Severus had been burning with hate and a sick rage since he had seen the broken boy in that room. He thanked whatever gods that were listening that Petunia had not been involved. His heart wouldn't have been able to take that betrayal.

In his sitting room, Severus quickly made his way to his secret store of potions, hidden behind a bookcase. He grabbed some very nasty slow acting poisons and an endurance potion, not wanting the bastard to die before he was done. Using a pinch of Floo Powder to get to the Three Broomsticks, the Death Eater apparated to Private Drive, Surry to enact the vengeance all of wizard kind was howling for.

Arriving just outside the front door of number 4 Private Drive, Severus smiled with sadistic pleasure, anticipating the hours of torture to come. Entering the house, he silently snuck up the stairs to the room he had found Harry in. He looked at the bare furnishings, the now stripped bed, and the blood stained floor. It was a bugger trying to get blood out of wood grain. What surprised him was the sight of Harry's aunt curled up in a rickety chair. To ensure that his mission remained uncompromised, Snape dripped Dreamless Sleep potion onto the woman's eyes before placing a soft kiss on her forehead.

With the grim reminder of his purpose, the dark man made his way down the hall, stopping first at the door to Dudley's room. He entered and was disgusted to see that gelatinous mound of flesh masquerading as a boy snoring away without a care in the world. Popping the cork off of one of his potions vials, Snape poured a drop of Lasting Nightmares potion on each of the child's eyes, before making a quick exit to his real target.

Sneaking into what he assumed was the master bedroom, Snape found his quarry in bed and snoring. 'Silencio. Incarcerous. Mobilicorpus.' Severus effectively gagged and immobilised the fat man with two quick spells, then got the still unconscious body to follow him into the small bathroom, placing him none too gently in the bathtub, waking him up in the process.

Seeing the man's eyes open and his mouth begin to move silently, all Severus could do was smile when he saw the look of terror flash across Vernon's purpling face. He closed the door, turned on the light and sat on the toilet, looking at the project ahead of him. "You are an evil man, Vernon Dursley. Evil men must be punished. In this case, the proper authorities are not willing to do what must be done, but I am. It's a good thing that I have a stronger stomach than most, cause I promise you, this is going to hurt." Seeing the toothy grin on the dark man's face, Vernon knew that he was looking at his probable death.

Snape began with physical torture, leaving magic for later. He started at Vernon's feet. First he used a pair of pliers to take off his toenails, sometimes ripping them off with a quick jerk, others with maddening slowness. Then he took a hammer and crushed the digits, smashing them into a pulp. Occasionally he would fake a swing, just to see the fat man flinch. Then he brought out a jar of salt, viciously rubbing it into the open wounds, causing a stinging, burning pain.

At this point, Vernon's eye were rolling in their sockets and he was slipping in and out of consciousness. Snape took out his endurance potion and a envigourance potion, making sure the man would be awake and aware for the whole procedure.

Next he took out a knife. It was small and thin, the kind of knife one would use to skin and animal. That was exactly what he was going to use it for. Again, he began at the feet, slowly peeling the skin off of the bottoms, leaving weeping, raw flesh behind. He carved dark sigils onto his ankles and up his calves, ancient runes that would promote disease and weakness.

Taking out a fine scalpel, Severus began surgically removing the man's kneecaps. It was terribly painful, first the removal of the skin, then the incisions around it and finally lifting off the flesh to reveal the bone. Vernon would have fainted if it weren't for the potions from the shock of seeing bone. Snape carefully and almost lovingly cut the tendons securing it in place and then pried the kneecaps out. He tossed them into the dry tub, loving the dull thunk they made.

Again with his scalpel, Snape drew runes of weakness and disease on his outer thighs, and the words 'incest' and 'betrayer' on the inner thighs. Next came the part he was most looking forward to. Many people would have castrated Vernon, cutting off his dick. Snape had a much more devastating plan. Cutting away the man's pajamas, he surveyed the disgusting anatomy that had stolen a part of Harry's soul. Taking out what some would call garroting wire (a fine, strong metal wire stretched between two handles), he wrapped it around Vernon's testicles, positioning it to wear the sack joined the rest of his body. Then he tightened and twisted, cutting into the sensitive flesh, first drawing only a trickle of blood, then a stream, then a flood, cutting in until the wire went all the way through. His testicles fell with a wet thunk. Picking up his wand, Severus cauterised the wound, making sure the remaining flesh was seared and crispy.

The torture continued for hours, leaving both men covered in blood and black smudges. Severus's final acts was to take the man's eyes, placing them in a jar filled with a preserving solution as a gift for Harry, if he ever woke up, and to place a drop of slow acting poison in each of the empty sockets. It would begin by eating at his muscles, then disintegrating bone while keeping the suffer alive, then finally incinerating them from the inside out, making it look like what muggles call 'spontaneous human combustion'. In all, the poison would kill him in three years.

With blood soaked clothing and a gift for Harry, Severus made his way back to the castle, content with his handiwork.

**Chapter 5: Escape**

'_Where am I?' _Darkness and silence were his only answers. Harry lay in the dim room, waiting for him memory to return. Flashes of pictures and sounds, scents and random colours came to him, but it took a few minutes to putthem together into a cohesive sequence of events. _'Vernon... He raped me.' _Harry did an odd sort of mental jig. _'I knew he was queer. Snape was at Private Drive. I must be in Mungo's. Somebody was just here. I can still smell them. Like pine trees and snow. I never knew snow was a scent.' _Harry knew he was rambling, even if it was only in his head.

'_Right before they left, they said something. What was it? _Come back to me, Harry. Don't leave me. I love you too much. _I didn't know. I didn't know. Why didn't you tell me?' _But the last person to love Harry had died. The thought stopped him short. _'It doesn't matter. I won't let anyone else die.' _Since Voldemort was the one who kept killing them, Harry figured it was about time he killed the bugger. _'I only have one left, even though I don't know who the hell they are. I won't let you take them away.'_

And so, it was will this promise that Harry slowly got up out of his cold, hard hospital bedfound his wand, and made his escape.

**Boy-Who-Lived Missing from Hospital**

Late this afternoon, medi-witches discoveredan empty bed where Harry Potter was supposed to be lying comatose.The questionon everyone's lips is "Was he kidnapped?" It is unclear whether he simply got up and disappeared, or was stolen from his bed.

One witness near the intensive care wing claims that he saw Lucius Malfoy, the infamous Death Eater, steal the boyOfficials at Azkaban say thatthe pureblood has made no attempt at escape, never mind succeeded at one.

So who was the person to last see the Boy-Who-Lived? (Continued on page 8)

"He's moved up in the world a bit, mydear. He went from page 12 to page 8." A mirthless laugh issued from Narcissia's mouth."But who is this person walking around looking like my husband?" A sly glance was aimed at Draco. He continued chewing his toast before replying.

"I have no idea mother. I was off getting school supplies at the purported time." In fact, it had only been a simularicum in Diagon Alley, an advanced corporal illusion.He knew he had to shake off his mother's questioning before she looked too deeply into the issue. "I wonder if the Dark Lord had this done?"

A gleam came into her eye at this idea. Again, Narcissia disappeared into her shadowed house, mumbling to herself with her newspaper under her nose.Hope rose on weak and fluttering wings in Draco, fuelled by the need to love and be loved.

Harry made his way throughLondon slowly, taking back routes and alleys, avoiding being seen as much as possible. He was heading to Diagon Alley. He needed money and his supplies for the next year. He still wasn't healed of his injuries, but the pain only spurred him ongiving him a real reason to continue on.

He snuck into the Leaky Cauldron, probably setting off who knows how many alarms. He went to the fireplace as quickly as he could, grabbed a handful of Floo Powder and whisked himself off to Mrs. Figg's house. She may have been a Squib, but she was still connected to the network. He found himself in her livingroom and quickly got out of there, not wanting to alert her.

Once stepping inside of the Dursley's house, the concept of revenge entered his head. It would have been so sweet to put a select number of curses onto the man he had called Uncle. A well placed shrinking charm, some boils in inconvenient places. But he didn't have time. Harry grabbed his packed trunk and his broom, making sure not to wake his aunt who was strangely camped out in his room. Uncaring of the laws governing under-aged magicHarry charmed his trunk to shrink and be light as air, putting it in his pocket. He let Hedwig outand tied her cage to his broom, then he was off.

As he flew, Harry began thinking of the places he could go. He knew he wasn't up to facing the Dark Lord yet. He needed to heal and continue learning. Against what Dumbledore said, Harry thought the best way to win was with dark spells. Besides, he seemed to have an affinity for them.

But no matter that, he still needed to heal. Without thought really, Harry found himself headed to Grimmauld Place. With a slightly twisted smile, Harry kept on course. It would be the perfect place to stay while he prepared for his final battle with Voldemort, never mind the order running around.

**Chapter 6: Dark Education**

Harry sank into the musty but welcoming bed in a secret room in the house that had belonged to his godfather. Sirius had made it, concealing it near the attic, for when he had needed to hide during the time when Peter Pettigrew had acted as the Potter's Secret Keeper. Everyone had believed him to be the Keeper, so naturally he had gone into hiding. The room was actually rather stuffy, but it was warm and comfortable. It had a bed, a small desk, some nearly empty bookshelves, and a wardrobe.

As soon as Harry awoke again, sometime near midmorning, he sat at the desk, retrieved some scratch paper and began to outline his plans. As cold-bloodedand psychopathic as you please, Harry took notes on how he would kill Voldemort. He began with a simple list.

1. Get books on the Dark Arts

i) spells

ii) curses

iii) potions

2. Improve self

i) rituals

ii) potions

3. Practice Dark Arts, Battle Magic, etc

I) find test subject(s)

ii) dispose of the body(s)

4. Kill Voldemort

5. Find the Voice

The reason Harry was so determined to end it as soon as possible, with either Voldemort's or his deaths was because of that voice, the one that said that he was loved and needed. Harry had lost too many loved ones to Voldemort and his reign of evil. He would remember that voice and that scent for the rest of his days, he just felt it in his bones, his soul, that who ever she was, she loved him. He would do anything to keep her alive.

Looking over his vague yet disturbing list, Harry could hear muffled voices and footsteps. There were silencing charms on his room, but that didn't mean he couldn't hear other people outside of it. It sounded almost like a woman weeping. A slight pang shot through his heart, but Harry was determined to carry through with his plan and remain hidden. It was something he had to do.

It would be days, maybe even weeks until he could begin to implement his plans, but Harry didn't mind. This was worth it. To get the necessary materials he needed to begin his Dark education, Harry decided to visit the only library he knew of filled with Dark Arts books: the Malfoys.

**Chapter 7: Malfoy Manor**

One of the first things Harry did was remove the tracking spell planted in his wand. It was this tag that alerted the Ministry to underage magic and magic in the presence of muggles. It had to go. And then he planned out the beginnings of his acquisition of education material.

Harry meticulously planned his invasion on the Malfoy Manor. Many thought him to be slightly dull, that Hermione was the only one with a brain, but that was plain untrue. All the signs leading to this conclusion were false. His grades were purposely marked low so as to give this impression, he lost at chess to Ron because he liked seeing the smile on his friend's face.

Harry was actually a rather intelligent person and an excellent tactician. The Slytherin in him made him rather Machiavellian. After recent events, he was also deranged, psychopathic and ironically anal-retentive. He had his every move planned out and timed to perfection. It helped that the Order had floor plans of the Manor.

When he got there, Harry chose a window leading into the third floor, where the family slept. He knew exactly where Draco's and Narcissia's bedrooms were. He went to Draco's first.

To prevent the alarms going off, Harry climbed the wall by hand. It was rather easy to tell the truth, the house being constructed of stone blocks. There were nooks and crannies for fingers and toes if one had the skill. Harry looked like a dark shadow ghosting up the side of the house.

He had decided not to wear his Invisibility cloak, calculating it's potential worth against it's potential hindrance. In the end, it would be too heavy and bulky. He was dressed in thieving assassin chick: tight black shirt, loose black linen pants, black leather gloves, and flexible black leather shoes. He was just another shadow among midnight shadows.

He entered the room of his blond nemesis through the conveniently open window he found. He touch the floor silently, padding cat quiet to the bed. Harry saw the outline of the boy's body through the lone, thin sheet. It was a hot night, and Harry could see Draco's flesh through sweat soaked patches of the white material. "_Sopor_. Sleep, enemy mine. We will have time later for fighting and histrionics."

He was sorely tempted to blast the pureblooded boy into oblivion, he even drew his wand to do so, but he had a time limit. His sleep spell had activated the magic alarms, and Narcissia would undoubtedly be en guard.

He slipped silently out the window again, climbing over to the windows opening onto Mrs. Malfoy's rooms. She wisely kept her windows shut. A flick of his wand and the glass was gone, allowing him to slide through into the house again.

Narcissia stood silhouetted in the light of the hallway, her wand drawn as she carefully stepped out of her quarters. She didn't have enough time to so much as turn before she was hit with the same spell as Draco. She dropped to the floor like a narcoleptic.

Harry quickly made his way to the library on the floor below. He stepped into the darkened room, quickly moving to the section he wanted. "_Lumos._ Now, where is that mechanism..." He hummed a tune to himself as he hunted for the mechanical device that would open the secret room of Dark Arts books.

He found it with little trouble, locating a button in the form of a knot in the wood of the bookshelves. The door popped open with a whisper of noise, gliding open on well oiled hinges. He stepped in, making sure to prop the door open behind him. "_Luminarium._" A ball of clear, white light appeared at his shoulder, lighting everything for him.

He pulled a cloth bag out of his pocket and unfolded it. Harry meticulously took every book on the shelves, shrank it, and placed it in the bag. When the bag was full, he shrank that too and put it back in his pocket, taking out another bag. He spent some time carefully packing away each individual book. Once done, he vacated the premise, removing his sleep spells from the mother and son duo.

When Harry got back to his hiding place, he found that he was darkly pleased with his night's work. He packed the books away in a specially enchanted trunk, leaving out only a few the begin his studies with in the morning.

**Chapter 8: Lab Rat**

Harry spent the next day and the following weeks closeted away in his secret room, absorbing the knowledge of his stolen books, sometimes literally. In the first dozen books, Harry came across an enchantment that allowed him to take in information from a book wholly, without taking the time to read. He had simply to perform the spell, touch the required books, and suddenly, he knew everything contained therein. It cut down on the time necessary for his education considerably.

A week after his debut as a thief, Harry came across the information he particularly sought: wandless magic. Because his and Tom's wands were brethren, wandless magic would be the ultimate sneak attack. Harry didn't find it at all odd that he began to refer to Voldemort as Tom. He didn't even notice it really.

Three weeks after the Malfoy Break-In, Harry knew every scrap of information contained in the entire collection of Dark Books owned by the family of Death Eaters. He knew enchantments, hexes, serums, curses, charms, elixirs, spells, glamours, sorceries, enthralments, potions, jinxes... if it was Dark, if it was harmful, if it would benifit him in any way, Harry knew it or of it.

It was with this preparation that Harry went to Diagon alley. One thing he had learned was something called Walking the Shadow-ways. He had merely to step into a clutch of shadows, and he would step out of another. He entered the Shadow-ways from his secret room, exiting in the Leaky Cauldron. Before he left, Harry placed layer upon layer of glamour and enchantment on himself.

He began with basic feature alteration. He made his skin darker, almost Latin looking, his bone structure, his height, his hair cut and colour, his scar, his age. When he was unrecognizable, he began placing distraction and befuddlement charms. Then finally, he altered the signature of his magic, making his aura not his own. Not many would think to do this, or even know how. But thanks to his recent education, Harry did it with ease.

Stepping into the busy alley behind the pub, Harry was momentarily overwhelmed with the noise and bustle, being used to the quiet and solitude of his private retreat. He shook it off quickly, moving into the crowds.

No one noticed him. No one was supposed to. He made his way to Flourish and Blotts Wizard Bookshop, intent on finding more books. To his disgust, all he found were pallid imitations of Dark Magic, things like the Bat Boogie Hex, and Jelly Leg Jinx. In other words, murky grey magic as opposed to the pitch black he sought.

And so, to Knockturn Alley he went. His first stop was Borgin & Burkes. He found some of the books referenced in his previous readings. Those vanished into his cloak. The found potion's ingredients that he needed for some future projects. Those he had to pay for, but it was no matter. Money meant nothing at this point.

Harry flitted from shop to shop like some poisonous butterfly, buying and steeling materials for his projects. Finally, he was prepared to leave. His cloak was weighted down and his pockets full, shrunken bags hanging from his belt. Just at the corner back to Diagon Alley, a hag approached him, her professional vocation displayed beyond doubt. He smiled at her, took her arm, and they vanished. She would not reappear in this life.

**Chapter 9: Dreams**

The black, crispy body of the hag from Knockturn Alley lay on the floor at the end of Harry's bed, her body still smoking and sizzling. Harry was alseep, curled up in a ball. He had tired himself more than he expected after the multitude of curses he used on the unfortunate whore.

He lay unconscious, alone, and shivering from exhaustion and cold. He dreamed.

_Dream_

_Uncle Vernon was chasing him through the halls of Hogwarts. Harry tried to hide behind Dumbledore, but the old man turned to dust. He kept running... McGonagall, Snape, Flitwick, Sirius, Remus, Hermione, Ron, the Weasleys... They all turned to dust. Harry ran through a curtain of blood into darkness... a tunnel... Vernon was still behind him._

_The pounding steps of his uncle... sick laughter... sounds like flesh meeting flesh... A light, just off to his left. Harry could smell pine trees and snow. It reminded him of something... Harry ran to the light... a faint outline... someone was there!_

_Memories. Screams... flashing lights... people dressed in robes... silence. Then pine tress and snow... and light. Harry remembered. It was the scent of the Voice. "Who are you? Please... tell me! I haven't left you... please..." He trailed off as the light disappeared. Harry screamed in agony and terror... a hand on his hip._

_"I've got you now boy. You're mine."_

_End Dream_

Harry awoke with a shuddering breath. '_I had almost forgotten. Pine trees and snow...'_ Harry got up from his bed, stumbling over the body of his dead experiment subject. "Opps. Looks like you got cooked a bit too long. You're a little crispy 'round the edges." He giggled to himself, and vanished her body with a flick of his wand.

He went to the corner of his room where a cauldron of thick, greyish liquid was bubbling. He stirred it, adding ingredients, and pondered who could possibly need him, who would love him enough to beg him not to die...

**Chapter 10: Draco's Diary**

October 13

There has been no word on H. He just up and disappeared. The Dark Lord was furious when he found out. H wasn't kidnapped, at least not by them. Dumbledore hasn't said anything if he knows, no one has. I don't think they know where he is either. Granger and the Weaslys are all grieving. I don't know what to think, how to feel.

This morning, the 'Daily Prophet' anounced that aurors have declared him to be missing and presumed dead. Don't they understand that we need him? That he was the only way to hold back the tide of Darkness about to wash over us?

Don't they understand they we need the hope that he is alive and safe somewhere? Don't they understand that we need him? That I need him...

October 15

It has started. Death Eaters have been seen out and around in public. The ministry is in chaos and Dumbledore's Army is preparing for battle. The War has truly begun. I don't expect to survive and neither does Severus. A spy doesn't live long once he has to declare himself.

October 19

May God have mercy on us. Diagon Alley is gone, St. Mungo's was hit, students are taking sides already and openly declaring themselves for one side or the other. The hallways have become a battle ground. Goyle was killed, Pansy lost an eye, Granger is in a coma, Weasly was maimed... So many people, so much blood.

The school will undoubtably remained stained with this much blood.

October 30

The entire Death Eater army has been camped out on the Hogwarts grounds. We are under siege. The Dark students went out and joined them. I remained here as the Dark Lord's spy, as did Severus.

Weasly died in the first rush, as did his sister. They ran out into the hordes to enact their vengeance after Hermione passed away in her sleep. They are out there now, cold and desecrated with the revels of my Lord's minions.

If we are not granted deliverance, or at least relief sometime soon, I am afraid that no one will make it out of this with their lives.

**Chapter 11: Off to See the Wizard**

He spent every moment he had training himself magically and physically, preparing himself for all possibilities. But during this time, he got further and further out of touch with reality, slipping into his own warped world. Harry referred to Voldemort as Tom in his head and aloud, he slowly forgot about Dumbledore's strategy and why Dark Magic was forbidden. Harry thought only of Tom and the Voice. He was obsessed and psychopathic.

And finally, the day came when he deemed himself ready.

Despite his rather violent insanity, Harry made sure to keep in touch with the goings on of the wizarding world, or perhaps it was due to his obsession? He read stolen copies of the 'Daily Prophet', hearing about the emergence of the Death Eaters, the attack on Diagon Alley, the Siege of Hogwarts... He knew and he mourned for the deaths abstractly. Even though he knew some of the people who had died, Harry was removed from it, untouched.

So it was with this lack of emotion, Dark Magic, and determination that he equipped himself. The Dark Magic had changed him, helped make him into this emotionless killing machine, just like it had done to Tom... Voldemort. His very physicality was shifted slightly off centre of being human. His blood was thicker, more like hot ichor than blood, his flesh was harder and paler, like alabaster, his hair was darker and silky, strands of midnight shadows. His eyes held all the myriad shades of green the mind could comprehend, and many that it couldn't: emerald, leaf, moss, Kelly, spring, Irish, pine, grass, lime... The Dark had taken him and made him one of their own. Tom had forced himself on them, but Harry _was_ 'them'.

Harry stood nude in his bedroom, and prepared himself. He clothed himself in shadows and darkness, water and fire, earth and air, starlight and moonlight. He centred what was left of his mind and psyche, and then downed the last potion he had prepared. It was a special made concoction that increased his power a score fold. And then he stepped into the Shadow-ways.

Harry came out of the Ways right where he wanted to be, the Slytherin Commons Room.

**Chapter 12: Wonderful Thing**

Harry's plan was simple really: take the son of Voldemort's prize Death Eater hostage and pretend to bargain, get close enough to blast the scaly son of a bitch away, and then kill or be killed.

Harry was unsurprised by the nearly empty Slytherin Commons room. When he stepped out of the Ways, Zabini was sitting in front of the fireplace, seemingly checking his wounds.

Harry slipped away before he was noticed, heading for the dormitories. He was just another Dark shadow. He slipped silently up the stairway and into Draco's room. The blond boy was sitting on his bed, his head in his hand. Harry paused, hearing the strange sounds the other boy was making. _'Is he... No, it can't be. He's not crying, is he?' _

Before Harry could recover from this shock, Draco looked up and saw him. The light in the pureblood boy's eyes said he was recognized. _'Damn!' _

"H-harry? Is that you?" Draco stood and made hesitant steps toward the boy who still thought him his nemesis. "We thought you were dead..." Before Draco could finish what he intended to say, he was struck down with a quick, wandless Stunning Charm. He collapsed to floor like a puppet who's strings had been cut.

Harry threw him over his shoulder, not bothering to use valuable energy to levitate him, and stepped back into the ways. Walking the Shadow-ways is an experience not unlike a waking dream. He had to put his mind into a relaxation similar to when he is sleeping, then step into the Darkness and _believe_ he was where he wanted to be. Mistakes had been made of course, and those people had never been seen or heard from again, but occasionally, one can hear screams and maniac laughter in the shadows.

Harry stood, just inside the Gateway, peering out at the world from the midnight shadows. The encamped Death Eater army stood around him. His shadow was in the middle of the camp, and he could see a huge tent where he assumed Voldemort to be. But Harry waited, unwilling to take any unnecessary chances. He put Draco down, but kept touching him. If he wasn't carful, Something would come along and steal his hostage.

Harry sat in the Nothingness of the Gateway, his hand on the unconscious Draco's chest, and waited for Voldemort to make some sign of his presence. Dawn was just lighting the skies when Harry heard screaming. A nameless, faceless Death Eater crawled on hands and knees from the huge tent, screaming for mercy. Tom followed him, wand trained on the helpless minion, obviously the bearer of unwanted news. Though he was sight-unseen and sound-unheard on the other side of the Gateway, Harry could hear everything that went on.

"What do you mean he is gone? Malfoy was supposed to meet and deliver us valuable information tonight. That cagy old bastard must have ferreted him out... Damn." Tom began muttering to himself about having only one spy left. Harry looked at the blond boy beside him. _'Malfoy... he must have faked joining our side. I never heard about that at the Order. Unless... No. Dumbledore would never trust him.'_

Harry turned back. Another masked Death Eater was asking after the fate of his fallen comrade. Tom answered simply. "Kill him. He is of no further use to me. He failed."

After the brief flash of green light, Harry set his Final Plan in motion.

He turned back to Draco, waking him with a quick, "_Ennervate_." Draco sat up with a start, looking around him wildly. Harry grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked his head around to look at him. "Listen to me very closely, Malfoy. You are my hostage. Make any move to run for it, and I will kill you, simple as that. Do as I instruct, and you might make it out of this alive, but I doubt it. Do you understand?" He yanked the other boy closer, putting them nearly nose to nose.

Draco swallowed audibly. Harry thought it was nervousness on his part, but it wasn't. It was a sweet torture to be so close to kissing the brunette boy, yet all Harry wanted to do was either use him or kill him. He was so hard Draco thought he would expire from the tension. He merely nodded his understanding of Harry's terms. "Where are we? Why can't anyone see or hear us?"

Harry let go of him sharply, sending Draco sprawling, but kept his other hand on the boy at all times. It was enough to drive the Slytherin mad. "Ever heard of a talent called Walking the Shadow-ways?" He glanced back over his shoulder, and grinned at the look on his nemesis's face.

"I thought that was a lost art. The only book known to document that technique was locked away in... Oh, so that was you, was it? Mother was most upset when she woke up. And here we all thought you were the Golden Boy, pride of the Light. You're eyeball deep in Dark Magic and sinking fast aren't you?" Draco looked at him with an expression Harry couldn't understand, or one that he didn't want to understand.

"Glorious, isn't it? The power, the freedom... I understand how Tom got addicted to it. Now be quiet and stand up. If I don't have physical contact with you until we leave the Ways, you might get lost or stolen. And I don't want to loose my hostage."

Draco stood willingly, and calmly faced the man who would lead him to his probable death. Love is a wonderful thing, isn't it?

**Chapter 13: Dust**

Albus Dumbledore sat up with a start. He had fallen asleep at his desk again. He could feel Darkness inside the wards. Of course he had felt that since the beginning of the siege, but this was a new Dark...

And then the old wizard felt something he had never hoped to feel again. Harry was inside the school! The wards recognized him. He shot up from his desk and nearly flew down to the dungeons, but too late. He stumbled to a halt, his knees popping with old age. Harry was gone again...

But still, he smiled and called a school wide alert. In his devious mind, the Seer in him knew that now was the time for the Final Confrontation. He went to prepare the remainder of his forces.

Harry pulled Draco to him, positioning the boy's back to be flush with his chest. They were almost the same height. Harry stepped forward, his wand at the blond's pale throat. The Gateway closed behind him.

"Tom... Look what I have." Harry stepped out of the shadows, his voice sing-song with subtle taunting. The reptilian face swung to him, red eyes bulging with shock.

His voiced hissed out, "Potter." He gestured at his minions to mob the young boy, but for some reason, they couldn't move. He gestured angrily. "Go get him."

"Oh, poor Tommy, his minions are frozen in place and he doesn't know what to do. Look Tom, I have your spy here. All I want from you in exchange is... well, I shouldn't say it out here so everyone can hear it." He grinned evilly, looking for all the world like a younger version of the Dark Lord.

It was then that a peculiar scent played in his nostrils. It was almost familiar... He buried his nose in Draco's hair, hoping to drown it out, but it only got stronger. The boy in his arms gasped and shuddered. Harry remained oblivious to the havoc he wrought in the Slytherin. _'So familiar... What is it? Pine trees and snow... Oh God above, she's here.' _Harry's arms tightened around his captive. Draco gasped aloud as Harry's wand dug deeper into his neck. _'But, it's coming from Malfoy... No_. _Oh God_, _no.' _

"It was you, wasn't it?" Harry whispered in the blond's ear, his breath ghosting across his cheek. "You were in my room. You asked me not to die. You told me that you loved me. Do you still?" Harry was slightly shocked, yet not. In the back of his mind, in the depth of his soul, he had always wondered about the source of his passion about Draco. A razor's edge was all that separated love and hate.

"Yes." A softly whispered hiss was all it took to shake Harry's world.

He shoved the boy away from him, letting Draco fall where he would. He hid everything behind a bland mask. "Come, Tom. You have your spy back. Now I get what I want: a chance to kill you without your pets interfering. Do they know that when you die, the Mark they bear will drag them into death with you? Did you ever tell them that? Oh yes, ever since I disappeared, I have done my homework. Time for the final exam. " The Battle began.

It was a terrific sight to behold. The frozen Death Eaters were a captivated audience. Harry threw spell after spell, curse after curse, hex after hex. He clearly dominated the fight. Voldemort managed to throw a few back, but Harry blocked them with ease. Slowly, Voldemort was being worn down. Every spell Harry wrought was lethal, and the Dark Lord was forced to dodge or block them all. Sweat began to trickle down his snake-like face, drip into his blood red eyes. Harry was grinning through his own mask of exertion, his hands clenched at his side. He was working wandlessly, and that tripled the effort.

Fighting and screams could be heard in the distance, but neither combatant paid it any mind. Lights and magics flared up into the sky, lighting the predawn world. Draco too, had been awed by the sight of so much power on display, and had lain motionless where he had been discarded.

Seeing Harry single handedly battle the most feared man living, Draco was shamed. He had tried to protect himself by playing both sides, though his heart had always been with Harry. He stood slowly, trying not to distract either of the fighters. He approached behind Harry, and laid his hand on the wizard's shoulder. Draco poured the raw power of his magic into Harry.

It was like a surge of arctic wind in the middle of a Louisianan swamp. Harry threw one final curse, the Killing Curse, with every drop of power he held, borrowed and rightful. The green light surrounded him and flew to it's target, searing the air and charing everything to dust in it's wake. It hit the Dark Lord like a freight train. 'Splat' and he was gone. You don't play tag with freight trains.

The two boys and every single Death Eater who bore the Dark Mark fell to the earth. Dumbledore and the Warriors of the Light made their way to ground zero, taking in Harry, Draco and the Big Pile of Dust.

"Does anybody have a broom and dustpan?"

**Chapter 14: Elvis Has Left the Building**

Harry woke up with a pounding headache and a touch of nausea. _'Pine trees..._ _Draco is here, close by.' _He slowly cracked open one eye, surveying his surroundings before opening the other. He was back in St. Mungo's. _'Figures. I get the shite beaten out of me, and I have to sneak out of here. I beat the shite_ _out of Tom, and I get a fan following.' _Harry could hear a crowd of people shouting his name in a chant, and most of them sounded female. He groaned before it could be suppressed.

He looked around quickly. No one was there, and no one had heard. _'Thank God for small mercies.' _He slipped out of bed, and saw Draco lying in an identical one across the room form him. The blond was in a deep sleep, but a quick spell showed him to be merely unconscious and not in a coma. He threw the boy over his shoulder, and summoned two simularicums to take their places in the beds, and then whisked himself and his 'hostage' into the Ways.

Harry stepped out of the Gateway into his little hidy-hole room. He carefully and gently placed Draco on his small bed. He ran a slightly shaking hand through his hair and sat beside the boy. _'Well damn. And I thought it was a girl. But I gotta admit, he can be slightly effeminate.' _Smirk. _'Mine now.'_ He laid down beside the other boy, pulled him into his arms, and drifted asleep, more himself in that moment than he had been in months.

'_Mmmm... peppermint. Harry. Harry? What the?' _Draco came into full consciousness with a start. He was pleasantly surprised to find himself wrapped around the luscious body of his fantasies, but he wondered where he was and how he got there. The last thing he could remember was giving Harry his powers. Then darkness.

Judging from the fact that he and Harry both were still alive, either they had won or had barely escaped. Whichever it was, right that moment, Draco didn't care. He was in Harry's arms and he was content with that. He would worry about the fate of the world later.

It was while he was studying the perfect contours of Harry's face that he found he was also observed. "You're awake."

The brunette smiled. "No, I'm not. It's all a figment of your imagination." Then he inclined his head slightly and softly laid his lips against Draco's. Harry inhaled sharply before devouring the sweet offering under his mouth. Draco was completely pliant and willing under his lips and hands, giving Harry whatever he wanted to take.

Their kiss lasted an eternity while they fed from each other's mouths, caressing tongues, nibbling, biting, tasting... They finally parted to come up for air. They were both panting and more than half aroused. Something passed through Harry's eyes, like clouds across the moon. In a quavering, almost normal voice, Harry asked, "Mine?"

Draco melted from that scared, little boy voice, unable to resist the vulnerability hidden in Harry's eyes. "Yes, yours." He smiled through the joyous tears in his eyes, laughing when Harry stood with him in his arms, spinning with him.

He set the blond down slowly, lowering him down his body. Draco's feet finally touched ground again and his lips immediately turned up for a kiss. They ravaged each other's mouths, desperate for affection, love, emotion of any kind. They fell onto the bed together, loving each other while the search for he and Harry began again.

'**Boy-Who-Lived' now the 'Man-Who-Defeated-He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named'**

Early Halloween morning, Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived became the Man-Who-Defeated-The-Dark-Lord. In the wee hours before dawn, Harry Potter somehow made his way through the entire Death Eater encampment to where He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named set his tent. It was then and there that he defeated the dark wizard for all time. The Ministry is aware of the fact that the young boy used an Unforgivable Curse, but given the circumstances, are waving the jail sentence.

But most interesting of all, the presumed Death Eater Draconius Drusus Black Malfoy was a hidden ally in the snake pit. He was a spy for the Order of the Phoenix, and during the course of the battle between Harry and You-Know-Who, managed to give Harry enough additional power to destroy You-Know-Who. According to trusted sources, the Killing Curse used was so powerful, that You-Know-Who was reduced to a pile of ashes! (See page 4)

'**Man-Who-Defeated-He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named' Missing- Again**

Early this morning, medi-witches at St. Mungo's hospital found the empty beds of Harry Potter and Draconius Malfoy. Both disappeared sometime last night, though the room was warded against Portkeys and Apparation. Yet another mystery of the Man-Who-Defeated-The-Dark-Lord.

The first being how he survived the Killing Curse as a mere babe, then his subsequent encounters during his school years, then the unaccounted beating of last July, his disappearance and reappearance, and now his disappearance again.

A massive wizard-hunt is being arranged by the Ministry, and any help from the populace would be very welcome. Any information leading to the discovery of our heros may have a monetary reward. (See page 6)

For years, witches and wizards around the world claimed to see Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. They became the Elvis sightings of the wizarding world. Unfortunately, those who actually did see them were Obliviated.


End file.
